


δοῦλος

by TypewriterTitan



Category: Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo
Genre: At least when Gankutsuou isn't making him a dick, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Parenthood, The Count is a great father, i refuse to let this anime die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypewriterTitan/pseuds/TypewriterTitan
Summary: δοῦλος, n. Greek origin. Transliterated as Doulos.1. a slave or bondservant.2. one who gives themselves up to another's will to be used for the advancing of his cause. (ex: a slave to Christ)3. devoted to another to the disregard of one's own interests.An exploration of Haydée's devotion to the Count over the years; highs, lows, and jabs at the Count's parenting skills.





	δοῦλος

She awoke like she had many a morning recently: on the floor, screaming, with tears streaking down her pallid cheeks.

Haydée Tebelin, age four and three-quarters, was suffering through the fastest change in circumstances in all of recorded history. In the span of what felt like milliseconds, years, decades, her father was cut down in front of her. As the Pasha’s body fell, a mixture of blood and surprise splattered on his face in what would be his final moments, the nation fell with him. And with the nation, the remaining Tebelins followed suit. Haydée and her mother were promptly sold into slavery and had been nothing but property for almost a month. Despite their ex-royal status, they slept on the wooden floors of the same cramped room as a handful of other poor souls, their cruel master residing in the room adjacent to them.

All of their wealth was gone in an instant; snapped up by the gluttonous maw of young General Mondego. That thief, that murderer, God damn him to  _ hell _ , was the cause of the child’s cries. He’d haunted Haydée for the ensuing weeks every night. These nightmares added insult to injury-- it should’ve been punishment enough to make royalty toil during the day, but to be visited by the face of her tormentor at night, to relive the worst part of her short life continually… it was all too much.

“Shhh, hush now, dear! This is not the place to make a racket…”

Her mother, Vasiliki, whispered into her ear, soft but stern like any self-respecting queen should be. It was too dark to clearly see her face hovering above her own, but Haydée could feel her mother's hand gently clamp over her mouth to muffle her wailing. She kept up her quiet cooing,  _ shh, shh, _ as Haydée gained her bearings. Distantly, she recalled her mother doing something similar when she’d had much less traumatic nightmares in the past (Mondego had far outdone the Boogeyman). Haydée would burrow her face into the crook of her mother’s neck, and breathe in her vanilla-scented skin, and know that everything would be fine. When Haydée sniffed her mother now, however, all she could smell was the stench of men who weren’t her father. The screaming stopped, but her tears continued to flow. 

It was nearing sunrise. Haydée's night terrors had stopped short of rousing the head of the house, thankfully, but all of the other slaves were begrudgingly awake. The dirty looks they shot her weren't visible, but her ears could pick up some of the grumblings about  _ the prissy Princess _ and  _ couldn't she just shut the hell up? _ Others, who still respected the old throne, or pitied their family, or some combination of the two, had a little more mercy on the girl.

"How bout you shut the hell up? We would've had to get up in an hour anyway. Let's just get working."

Those few dissenters groaned, but obeyed. Haydée swiped at her bleary eyes and leaky nose with her sleeve before sitting up. Vasiliki sat up with her, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into her daughter's back. "Haydée," she said, "you were having the dream again?" Her voice lilted like it was a question despite it being a statement. Haydée nodded yes anyway.

"Oh, darling," She pulled her into a tight hug. "We'll make it out of this, I swear it. We'll survive this. We'll be okay."

She spoke with conviction, but her bloodshot eyes said  _ hope died along with your father. _ This pep talk was for both of them; if she said they'd be okay enough times, maybe it would eventually become the truth. Still, she tried to sound upbeat.

In a sing-song voice, she asked, "Can you say 'We'll be okay' for Mama, hmm?"

Haydée hesitated. She moved her lips to speak, but no words came out. They sat in silence.

"... Alright. Can I have a smile instead, then?" The child grinned easily, and briefly, they truly did believe their story could have a happy ending.

The moment passed.

After lighting some candles, Vasiliki helped her daughter change into her work clothes for the day ahead. Haydée wore the same garb as the other young girls there: a cheap, brown dress two sizes too big. No shoes. She squirmed as Vasiliki removed her equally modest pajamas and pulled the dress over her head. The scratchy material left angry, red welts all over Haydée's body. She absently scratched her stomach as her mother got dressed.

Vasiliki gazed at herself in the mirror. The material of her robe was such a far cry from the silks and satins that used to adorn the former queen's body. Vasiliki and the other grown women's uniforms were much more risque, baring slits of their arms, legs, midriffs --skin, skin, skin. Vasiliki tried to laugh it off in her head,  _ I bet he bought these skimpy garments to save money on fabric, _ but the intent was clearly for seduction. Dressed like this, one of these women were bound to attract a man looking for comfort. A customer. They'd pay the master for a quick romp, then maybe buy her for himself to do whatever he pleases...

She gulped. Her face was animated, never quite settling on any emotion before it went completely blank. With quick, routine movements, she smoothed down her long hair and patted her hip; concealed beneath her dress was a small dagger, smuggled away before Vasiliki and Haydée were condemned to this accursed fate. She had long given up on trying to maintain her own dignity, but for her daughter's, she'd surely go out fighting.

Stepping back and taking one last look at the mirror, Vasiliki regarded the two. To an outsider, they'd make quite the pair: a little girl in a potato sack dress, and a common harlot. Oh, how the mighty hath fallen. 

"Ready?"

Yes, Haydée nodded. And yet another day of humiliation commenced.

* * *

 

Haydée was too short for a lot of the odd jobs young girls would do around the house --washing the windows, for instance, would be a pipe dream-- so she inserted herself where she could. Her small frame made scrubbing the floors less of a chore, and she could sweep and dust low places in the parlor, and wash vegetables for the bigger girls to chop. She found the only way to stay out of trouble was to remain quiet and keep her hands busy.

Male slaves were largely kept outside; some for menial labor, others for reporting those foolish enough to make a run for it. Vasiliki and the other women were kept inside and tended to work on the other side of the house throughout the day and rejoin the children at night, so it was odd when after the Master's lunch a middle-aged slave, her face beset by worry wrinkles, entered the guest bathroom. Haydée wasn't alone in there. Two other girls her size were with her, giggling and 'eww-ing' at turns as they cleaned the toilet together. Haydée scrubbed the tub alone in silence.

The older woman wrung her ashen hands, slowly floating into the room like a specter. Her eyes darted to each of them before locking on Haydée's. She glided closer.

"You are Vasiliki's daughter, yes?"

Haydée stared. She jerked her head, up-down. Yes.

"Come with me, little one. You've been summoned." Her voice was feeble and quivering with concern.

Haydée felt like something was wrong; a bad thing was going to happen if it hadn't already. But what other choice did she have? She dropped her scrubbing brush, rinsed the soap from her hands, and did as she was told. They walked the long halls hand in hand, the child's tiny legs tottering to keep up with the woman's clipped gait. Haydée could feel the woman's sinewy hand begin to shake as they approached their destination.

With a sigh, the woman rapped lightly on a large, oaken door. Haydée had never been in this room, but she knew where they were: the Master's bedroom chambers. The door swung open. Inside, she could see her mother sitting on her knees at the foot of the Master's bed. Vasiliki's eyes went wide with shock. She did not want to see her daughter her. The Master's voice boomed from somewhere behind her, still out of sight.

"Thank you, Resilin. You may leave now."

The older woman, Resilin, didn't need to be told twice. She looked at Haydée and her mother one last time with eyes full of apology, nudged the girl into the room, and closed the door behind. The three listened to Resilin's footfalls fade into the distance... then silence reigned.

Haydée could see the Master of the house now. He sat cross-legged on the edge of his bed, still lounging in his sleepwear (better looking than what we're wearing, but still cheaper than what Mama and I used to wear, she noted with some satisfaction). He was a portly man and a foreigner, evidenced by his bright red skin and four-digit mitten-like hands. Haydée had only seen people from southern space in passing via her father's diplomatic dinners, but she saw this man as their worst possible ambassador. His mood could change in a heartbeat.

As if he read her thoughts, he leveled a taunting smirk at her. All two hundred of his wine-stained canines were on display.

"So do you plan on standing this whole time? While staring me down like that, no less? It seems Mondego killed your manners, too. Sit."

Haydée quickly kneeled like her mother, eyes stinging at the mention of her father's killer. She shifted uncomfortably next to Vasiliki, who wanted so badly to comfort her, to put her hand on her head and tell her not to listen to that fool. But she didn't. They kept their eyes trained on the curves of the wooden floor and awaited further command.

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I brought you both here," the Master went on, standing to his feet. He paced from side to side in front of them, enjoying how they squirmed like insects so low beneath him. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised to hear that it's good news! Er, well, more like potentially good news, provided neither of you manages to fuck this up for me."

Haydée and Vasiliki glanced at each other in confusion, then returned their eyes to the ground.

"Did you two know you had a secret admirer? A very rich admirer, at that. I think he said he's from eastern space, or France, or somewhere in the cosmos; I'll be honest, I care much more about his bank account than where the hell he's from. His people have contacted me, and they'll be coming down to inspect you both any day now. If he likes what he sees, he's promised to pay a pretty hefty sum to take you off my hands. Isn't that exciting?"

He stopped his pacing to see their expressions. Not garnering the reaction he wanted, the Master grabbed a fistful of Vasiliki's hair and forced her to look at him. She squeaked in surprise. Haydée covered her mouth and scowled at the floor. She was filled with anger and fear and didn't want to make things any worse.

The Master's hot breath puffed in Vasiliki's face as she winced in pain. "I asked you a question," he growled. "I will not repeat it."

Vasiliki schooled her face back into as neutral a mask as she could muster. "That is truly exciting news, my lord."

"I know it is, my queen! Thank you for saying as much." He forcefully released her hair and turned expectantly to Haydée, crouching down to her level.

"And what have you to say, Princess? Are you elated as well?"

Haydée bit her lip and enthusiastically nodded. Up-down up-down up-down.  _ Yes, yes, yes. _

The Master snickered and playfully cupped his hand around his ear. "I can't hear you."

"She doesn't speak, m'lord." Vasiliki piped up, speaking clearly but with great trepidation. The Master turned his head back towards her, looking mildly amused but more than a little perturbed.

"Oh?"

"Yes, sir, unfortunately. She hasn't spoken for a long time. She has seen a lot of things a girl her age shouldn't have to see." 

The Master knew the painful story of this mother and child in full. It elicited no sympathy from him. 

With a mocking smile, he gently tsk-ed and tut-ed, tucking stray hairs behind Haydée's ear and cupping her small, wan face in his hands. With just inches between them, all Haydée could see was the cruel glint in his eyes. Vasiliki stiffened and brought her hand to her hip. 

"Aw, what a poor, poor girl. Your life's been such a tragedy. Do you know what would be an even greater tragedy?"

Left-right. _ No. _

"Buying a pretty little bird, just to find that it doesn't sing. Because that's why you buy pretty little birds-- to hear them sing. So when they don't sing, they lose their value. And we can't have that, now can we?"

With surprising speed, the Master reeled back and struck Haydée across the cheek. Her face landed on the floor with a resounding  _ thwump _ . Her mother cried out, bundling her dazed child up into her arms as the Master finally stood and faced away from them. He spoke with chilling authority.

"I plan on collecting every cent of what that man promised me for you two. Every cent. And I highly doubt this customer’s going to pay top dollar for a mute, so I suggest you get her talking before I employ my own methods." He examined his fingernails, sighed, and turned around. A nasty bruise was forming where Haydée's forehead met the ground. The slow trickle of blood mingled with her salty tears. Vasiliki was on the brink of saying something, of doing something rash, something that would surely get them both killed. She stared hard into her daughter's face.  _ We will survive this. _

"I don't know exactly when the buyer will get here, I just know it will be soon. Go wash up in the good bathroom. I'll have the others set out some perfumes and better clothes for you both for the next few days. You know, best impressions, and all that. Be ready. You may leave."

Vasiliki stood with her daughter cradled in her arms, bowed, and stalked out. She refused to let the tears flow until they were finally alone in the bathroom. Vasiliki sat her daughter on the lip of the tub and slumped against the door, drained and enraged and hopeless. Her stifled cries reverberated against the high walls.  _ Such great acoustics for a mental breakdown. _

Haydée looked on in dismay at her mother in shambles. She couldn't help but feel like she had caused this, somehow. Just by being alive, she was making matters so much worse. She had cried too much that day to cry again, so she settled for plopping her head on her mother's shoulder. Haydée moved her lips, knowing her mother couldn't see or hear her:  _ I'm so sorry, Mama. So sorry, so sorry. _

Vasiliki stared forward and stroked Haydée's hair. It comforted them both. "I'll be honest, dear," she started, "I don't know what's going to happen next. Who is this man that wants to purchase us before he's even come here? Why does he want us? I can't imagine it's for anything good." Her brow creased in thought, trying to suss out this mystery man's ulterior motives.

No matter how long she pondered, Vasiliki couldn't see this ending well. In the most likely case, this man harbored a grudge against the previous administration and saw the current bedlam the country was going through as the perfect opportunity to take out his frustrations on the last of the royal family. She and Haydée, living out their lives as playthings for some petulant maniac; just the thought of it made bile rise in her throat.

"No, we can't sit here and hope for the best any longer," Vasiliki murmured. She pressed a fervent kiss to Haydée's forehead and felt the child wince from the dull pain still lingering there. "We need to escape... we need to escape, and I don't know how. Ugh, I feel so useless. I just know I can't bear to see you get hurt again."

At the mention of hurting, Haydée's eyes unconsciously moved toward her mother's hidden blade. Vasiliki followed her gaze and uncovered the weapon. Carefully, she handed it to her daughter. Haydée looked it over with morbid curiosity.

"I don't know how long we'll last if we slice our way through this situation, tempting as it is. Oh, if only I could have cut out that scoundrel's tongue for touching you, for what he said to you... I'd love to hear your voice again, but you take your time, love. You are invaluable."

Her mother's reassurances brought a smile to Haydée's lips. Still, they had no solution. Vasiliki fleetingly considered a double suicide. If Haydée protested, she could easily drown her in the tub and finish herself off with the dagger. No more suffering here, at the hands of the demon they know, and no future suffering from the demon they don't.

But she banished that thought to the back of her skull. She could take her own life, but she knew she couldn't snuff out the inquisitive light in her daughter's eyes. If worse came to worst, however...

"Haydée. I don't want to scare you, but if anything goes wrong in these next few days, I need you to do something for me."

Haydée looked up at her mother expectantly. Vasiliki took hold of the dagger and unsheathed it. The sharp blade winked dangerously at them.

"Now, I'm giving this dagger to you. While I think of a way to get us out of this mess, I want you to keep it with you always. If any man tries to... to touch you when you don't want to be touched, cut him. And if you can't cut him," Vasiliki's voice hitched. She stopped to compose herself, then took Haydée's little arm and pointed at the long blood vessels there with the tip of the knife.

"If all else fails, cut here. Down, not across. It's not pleasant, but it will make things end quickly. Do you understand, Haydée?"

Vasiliki could see the cogs whirring in that little head. Truthfully, Haydée didn't understand, not completely. But she knew she didn't like this gift. She chose to nod yes anyway, if only to assuage her distressed mother.

"Good, good. I pray it doesn't come to that. I just want you to feel ready in any circumstance."

There was a harsh knock at the door, followed by two folded garments being shoved under the door to them. A man's voice called from the other side: "Don't forget why you're in there, you two." Vasiliki waited for his steps to retreat before standing up. A wry smile tugged at her lips.

"Yes, I did forget. We should be washing up right now. What do you say we table this discussion and take a well-deserved bath?"

Up-down.  _ Yes. I want nothing more. _

* * *

 

Thousands of lightyears away from Janina was a large ship. To the people within the planet's orbit, it was just an unassuming dot on the horizon, but hour by hour, it hurdled closer, as if propelled forth by some malevolent energy. This was no coincidence. This was destiny manifest.

**Author's Note:**

> Slow-going this chapter. I promise the Count is on his way, he's ship is in warp speed and everything.  
> This is chiefly a challenge to see if I can actually finish a story I start. Stay tuned for the answer (or don't, I won't take it personally bby).


End file.
